


Whom Time Forgot

by wordstowords03



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Physical Abuse, Police, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstowords03/pseuds/wordstowords03
Summary: Diana Stark has formidable control in Dallas. What she has no control over, however, is the serial killer slicing his way through the wives of Hartford Steel executives and suppliers. As the bodies stack higher, so does the tension between a certain Agent Aaron Hotchner and Diana Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

“Miss Stark, I requested that you not talk to the press until my team landed in Dallas.”

Agent JJ Jareau’s words were barked, rather like a bowling ball hurled at someone’s head. She was restless and frustrated – disheartened by the endless stream of bodies in Dallas.

Her eyes fastened on the merciless blonde before her. The woman’s eyes drilled into JJ like nails. Her resolve was similar – steely, formidable. No matter the heat of a topic, she wore a vibrant smile and kept her voice even, smooth. Her hands were wrought around a steaming mug of what JJ could only presume to be coffee.

Though, given the fermented stench lofting from it, she was suspicious if coffee was the _only_ substance.

“No, you told me to give you twelve hours,” the blonde executive, Dianna Stark, said with ease. An oaky southern accent coated her voice. “And I gave you it, unwillingly, and here we are, fifteen hours later. The wolves were banging down the door, Agent Jareau.”

“My team was supposed to be here twelve hours ago, but their plane got delayed,” JJ argued. “We needed more time.”

The blonde executive laughed, hands jostled the fluids within her porcelain mug. Bracken fluid oozed down the sides.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Excuse me?” JJ’s cheek bore a distinct redness. “You are legally obligated to assist our investigation. We need your company’s cooperation.”

“Without me you wouldn’t have any cooperation at all.”

JJ cocked a flaxen eyebrow, mouth agape.

“I am the communications representative for Hartford Steel,” Stark continued. “Like you, I juggle a lot of responsibility. Everything I do is subject to higher scrutiny. Unlike you, however, my job is predicated on protecting the reputation of my company so that it may generate money, profit. Those who generate profit are my suppliers and employees. What would happen to them, I wonder, if I allowed our name to be tossed around the news negatively? I am the master manipulator, Agent Jareau, and without my cooperation the men in this company _will eat you alive_.”

Jureau nodded curtly, cocked her head to the side. “But you called a press conference before we could safeguard Hartford’s reputation.”

Stark offered JJ an ironic smile.

“Larger fish in the sea, Miss Jareau.”

“Your boss is in no position to override authorities.”

“He arranged it with Dallas officials privately.”

“We oversee this case now, not Dallas PD,” JJ said quickly, patience waning.

“Yes, well, you tell that to Dallas PD,” Stark mused. She knew damn well that Williams had connections that superseded any request of the BAU. Not to mention, Texans never did take well to the invention of government hussies.

Stark was rather fond of Agent Jareau. In the full twenty hours she’d known her, that is. JJ wielded excellent professional and personal command. She was efficient, swift. In another life, Stark thought, the two would be friends.

JJ smiled. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“Nevertheless, I do seek your boss’ full cooperation and trust. It will make this whole case run a lot smoother.”

Stark doubted that.

In fact, she found herself doubting most things that week. Her job, her vitality, her rigor. The intensity at which she ran through her duties was dizzying, particularly in the last four days.

She remembered the day vividly – the day the demons of hell thrust forth from their fiery cage, fangs tearing into her flesh.

The way she heard it – and she’d heard it an infinite amount of times – the morning laborers shuffled into the Hartford’s central mill and found a certain metallic odor wafting through the rafters. The workers investigation, of which it didn’t take long to find the source of the foul stench: a deceased body wedged near the ear loading dock. She’d refused to see the police photographs, but Stark’s imagination was vivid enough. The victim was female, strangled and the autopsies revealed sexual battery.

Before mill workers called Stark, they called the authorities. The effect was stifling and disdain expediently rippled through the company’s bureaucracy. Jed Williams – the company’s CEO – was particularly irate. Against Stark’s insistence, she should add.

Good men lost jobs that day; innocent women lost their lives.

It was an utter disaster, Stark thought.

The bodies flowed after that. The next day, another body was discovered in the same loading bay. The day following, another body outside the factory parking lot. All the bodies were rich, upper-class wives of Dallas Executives.

The murders hit the news immediately. Production was suspended in the area until further investigation. After a lost battle with the feds, Dallas PD ushered in the BAU; Jareau knocked on Claire’s hour with an hour of the decision.

Stark was beginning to wither under duress. Her eyes drooped, and her words lacked their usual precision. It was the consequence of her position, she supposed. She’d seldom abandoned her office in 48 hours, and when she did, it was to burst into Jed Williams’ office to bluster and chastise.

Her was adamantly against the cooperation with the FBI. He’d fought to stave them off and when he’d lost the battle Stark’s sanity was the object of his vexation. While JJ fought Stark, Stark fought Williams, the press and Hartford’s business contacts.

Jed warned her against cooperating with the FBI, despite the inclination of her job to do so. Every call was filled with ceaseless bellowing and demands.

Stark had been so boggled with work, she hadn’t left the office in 48 hours. She was weary, and her boss – Jedediah Williams, COO of Hartford Steel– was obtuse. He was adamant against cooperation which left Stark in a precarious predicament. While JJ fought Stark, Stark fought Williams, the press and Hartford’s suppliers. She was appetizer for an inevitable feast of predators.

Not that this was new, she mused silently.

“I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. Strangers

She grew tired of noise. It surrounded her, consumed her – ringing phones and raging voices. Jed Williams crawled under her skin and even as she escaped her office, the burden of his words weighed upon her.

_“I don’t want these bastards diggin’ in my files. Keep ‘em out.”_

_“Jed.” Her eyes fastened on him, perplexed. Her blonde brows shimmed up her forehead. “They’re the FBI. If they want something, I’m obligated to provide them with it.”_

_“Damn that. I’ll reach out to Jones and Jamee at Channel 4 – we’ll drive the bastards out.”_

_She crossed her arms. “They’re trying to catch a murderer – the same murder who is slaughtering our providers. We don’t say anything they don’t want us to say.”_

_The storm in Jed’s eyes raged within her own body. Thunder clashed in his chest, an angry giant. She left cold, washed with a blustery wind. A storm, a storm was coming for her._

_“You’ll do what’s necessary to protect Hartford.”_

_To protect Hartford…_

Awakening from the memory was like the setting for a horror movie: the plot was thickening, the writing was on the wall. If her previous experience weighed anything, she would have to tread carefully.

Always so careful.

Stark strut into Mo’s, her favorite diner. She always strut – it was her definition. If she projected herself as a hurricane – an unstoppable mass of nature – then people would never think otherwise.

When she pulled up to the counter she mustered her finest smile, vibrant and sugary.

“Miss Stark!” The female cashier scurried from behind the counter and swathed her in a hug. “How you been holdin’ up with all this nonsense? Is it true the main mill is shutting down?”

She fought to maintain her smile.

“We won’t know anything else until the FBI rolls in.”

The cashier drew her red-painted lips into a sneer.

“Fed pigs in Dallas? Why, I never…” She blinked in anger, and hurried behind the counter. “I’ll put in your usual order. Watcha drinkin’?”

“Scotch, if you please,” her drawl was prominent with exhaustion. She eased herself onto the plush bar stool and leaned over the counter. The drink that slid between her fingers was welcomed, the savory burn that slithered down her throat more so.

She felt a stir by the door. Warmed by her drink, she turned to face it, blonde curls bobbing over her shoulder. Her eyes settled on the man at the register and the prior thunder that boomed in her chest fell silent, replaced by a warm, languid beam of sunlight.

His dark suit was tailored, a professional glove to his solid body. His tie was impeccably straightened, his shortly cropped ebony hair perfectly combed. His cheekbones, chiseled and daring,  highlighted the intensity in his eyes.

His eyes – so severe – were a tawny, golden brown like Scotch.

 _Hello, handsome,_ she purred.

She couldn’t hear the minute details of his order, but she knew it was long. He, too, was resigned to loiter in the quaint city dinner while his food was concocted.

She caught him glance at her once, then twice. On the fourth, she transfixed him with an elegant smile.

“Rough day?” His voice was deep and velvety, with a bite.

Scotch – this man _was_ Scotch.

“It’s improving.” Her eyes flickered over his suit suggestively. “And you’re painfully overdressed.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Stark’s dress was a pastel pink that swirled around her knees. It was silky and elegant, and managed well with a brown blazer. It also worked wonders for her complexion.

She swirled her glass through the air carelessly.

“Class never rests, what can I say.” She set her glass on the counter and set an elbow on the counter. She poised her chin against her open palm. “I would ask if you’re visiting – but it’s plain to see you are.”

The man lifted a dark brow, his lips pent into a smirk.

“Am I that obvious?”

“You stick out like a sore, sore thumb.” She squinted at him playfully. “Maryland, Pennsylvania, I’d guess. You work in finance, and your shoes always match your socks. I bet you take a jog every morning through some local park.”

“You’re good.”

“I can read any –”

“But you missed something.”

“I’ll have you know, stranger, that I’m never wrong.” Her green eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Well, you are today,” he teased and slid onto the stool beside her. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, gestured to the cashier. “Another Scotch, please.”

 “One for you?” She asked, doe eyes wide.

“No, thanks.” His head whipped back to Stark, his smirk in tact. “Now, back to you being wrong – I’m not in finance.”

“Oh, please!” She mocked a scoff. “Stocks?”

“No.”

“Business?”

He laughed – a wholesome, fulfilling laugh. It was a laugh summoned from somewhere within – a laugh of times passed.

“Of sorts,” he said.

“Fine, fine,” she conceded. “You’re a lawyer – oh, prosecutor for the state? I know a state boy when I see one.”

Hotch grinned. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“It’s not in my job description.” She sipped at the refreshed drink in front of her.

“And which job is that?”

She giggled, a light, tinny sound. “If you can’t tell me yours, I can’t tell you mine.”

He nodded, inclined his head slightly. “No? Then, why don’t I take a crack at you?”

She lifted her eyes to his in challenge. “You couldn’t even _begin_ to guess.”

“You’re right, because I already know.” She gestured for him to continue, captured in his stare. “Your dress is pink and light – the color reminds you of what you want, it suggests you’re missing something that makes you feel light, happy. Your shoes – brown flats – are neutral and keep you grounded. You could wear heels, on most days you probably do, but the exhaustion lingering in your eyes suggests today you might fall, or faint. You’ve barely eaten because your job is eating you, and that Scotch in your hand is just the second for the night. By the time it ends, you’ll have two more, maybe three.”

“As for your occupation,” he continued. “It could be any combination of things. You lead a conversation well and try to swing it in your favor, which tells me you’re in some sort of communications. You’re reserved, amicable and that suits well for sales or business.” He paused, considered. “No, not sales. You know the value of a sale, but it holds no satisfaction for you. You need the right balance of control and reciprocation – like a conversation – and sales is too one sided. There’s not enough for you.”

If she were affected, she didn’t let it show. Her face remained static, a porcelain statue framed in gold.

“Am I wrong?” He feigned a sardonic innocent, eyes not leaving hers.

“Yes,” she said decidedly. “You said I’d have up to three more drinks?”

He nodded, curious.

“What you didn’t say, is who I’ll be having them with.” She pursed her lips teasingly.

The spark kindled between them was magnetic, contagious. They leaned toward each other – dark and light – and synced their breaths to beat as one.

Two souls – silly, flirtatious, severe.

“On another occasion, I’d say the stoic finance guy who walked in half an hour ago. Tonight, though, it appears you’ll be enjoying them alone.”

Like clockwork, a bag of food appeared before her. In front of the stranger, several bags that carried the scents of several very, very unique meals.

She couldn’t help her toothy smile, and ducked her head to the floor. He observed his feet on this floor.

“Your shoes match your socks. Bully for me,” she said.

“Bully for you,” he allowed and paid for her drinks. He stood and loaded the bags in his hands, offered Stark a solemn smile.

She grasped her own bag and sidled beside him, mossy eyes browning with disappointment.

“How long are you in town for, stranger?” Her drawl was pronounced, playful despite the forlorn sentiment written over her face.

“Too long,” he said. He, too, wore solemnity well. His eyes were vast, lost in themselves.

 He was a man who saw more than checkbooks and court rooms, she thought.

“If you feel so compelled before you leave, you should stop by again,” she said. “You know, when you catch a break between stocks and transactions.”

“I’m not in finance.”

“And I don’t wear pink to appear happy,” she teased. She followed him to the door, smiled as he struggled open it with bag-filled hands.

She turned to him outside the door, and breathe din his crisp, oaky scent. She launched onto her tiptoes and pressed a bold, chaste kiss to his cheek. She pulled away before she could feast on his expression, and strut into the parking lot.

“Until our next drink, stranger.”


	3. Investigations

Hotch greeted his team and settled the bags of food on the table. The team leapt for the food with enthusiasm, set aside the folders in their hands.

“The Sheriff was right, this food is too good,” Derek Morgan managed between a mouthful of food.

Rossi inclined his head in agreement.

“You should try the rest of the spots in town,” he said. “Dallas knows how to cook.”

“I’d trade good food for a more favorable relationship with the press. JJ,” Hotch called.

The blonde piped up her head, fork deep in her food.

“Is Hartford on board?”

JJ’s expression pinched.

“Stark may be, but her superiors…” She shook her head. “I’ll remain in contact.”

“I want her here first thing in the morning,” Hotch demanded. “No excuses.”

She nodded briskly, reached for her phone.

“Reid, Morgan – what did you find out from the medical examiner?”

“It seems the unsub has a specific pattern. The strangulation suggests it’s personal, and that he’s seeking gratification from his victims,” Reid said, contemplation lingering on his words.

“What about sexual assault?” Hotch was nothing less than severe, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes,” Reid said, “but there’s no evidence of violence beyond strangulation. In fact, the state of the victims suggested that the sexual assault may not have been entirely unwarranted, but welcomed.”

“So, our unsub knows the victims, seduces them,” Rossi said.

Prentiss nodded. “Besides M.O, all the victims are connected. They knew each other through upscale organizations and country clubs. Their husbands are some of the richest men in Dallas.”

“They also have investments with Hartford Steel,” Morgan said. “These are some rich bastards.”

“So rich, that each of the wives told their husbands they were going on shopping spree, or a night out, and no one suspected a thing. The families were blindsided,” JJ added, tucked away her phone.

“These women were comfortable enough with our unsub to spend time with him,” Hotch said. “This gives us a profile to start working with. When we know more, call Stark immediately. I want her at the press conference.”

“Isn’t Stark one of the big wigs at Hartford Steel?” Morgan looked genuinely interested, hands clasped and dangling between his knees as he leaned forward. “I’ve heard the cops talking about her. From what I can tell, she’s got the city by the balls.”

“Which is why we need her working with us,” Hotch said. He turned to face the crime board, hands on his hips. “Let’s get started on the profile. It won’t be long until he strikes again.”


	4. Introdutions

Aaron Hotchner stared at the victims’ board. His eyebrows drew drawn over his eyes, but his mouth bore the suggestion of a smile.

Rossi stuck his head into the conference room, squinted curiously at his teammate.

 “Reid and Morgan went back to the crime scene,” he said.

“JJ and Prentiss are visiting the families.”

“You’re smiling.”

Hotch glanced over his shoulder, sighed. “Dave – ”

“Something happened last night, before dinner,” Rossi contemplated. His voice was curious and assessing, like a kid piecing together a puzzle. Each phrase fit into a pattern; a pattern he knew all too well from his own experiences. “You met someone.”

The Unit Chief drew his eyes to the ceiling.

“It’s not pertinent to the case, Dave.”

“But it’s pertinent to you.”

The two exchanged a modest silence. Then, Rossi smiled.

“So, brunette?,” he asked.

“Blonde.”

“Interesting.”

“I know what you’re getting at, and no, I can’t afford distractions. Our unsub is still out there,” he insisted. A smile still toyed at his lips.

“Sure, but what about after the case is resolved? Take a day, blow off some steam.”

Hotch blew out a sarcastic breath, cast his friend a cautious glance.

“I don’t know, Dave.”

“Think about it.” Rossi’s cell phone dinged. “Diana Stark is here.”

*******

Sheriff Clout never changed. He had the same peppered-brown hair since he was thirty, with a simpering personality to match. Once, he was thin, fit even. Though, it did less to sweeten his appeal. Some odd years later, the only thing changed was the new, protruding dimensions of his belly.  

Clout was a fissure in Diana’s life. He was there for all the lavish parties and late night house calls. He was there 2 years ago when she…  well, he was just always _there._

Clout reached in to hug her, wrapped meaty arms around her back. When he released her, he heaved a mighty sigh.

“I tell ya, Jed’s been blowin’ up my phone all mornin’. Half expected to see him here with you.”

“He leaves the dirty work to me, as I’m sure you remember.”

Guilt flited in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t say – “

“Diana Stark?” David Rossi paused before her, lips pent in a modest smile. He was a comforting man, homey – like an uncle. His hand was firm when it reached for hers, confident. “S.S.A David Rossi.”

Stark fixed a stunning smile, white teeth winking between full lips.

“Sorry you boys had to bring yourself all the way out here. This must seem like the Boonies compared to Quantico.”

“Ah, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been all over Texas.”

“You must know all our secrets, then.” She glanced behind him, raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Agent Hotchner? Agent Jareau told me I’d be dealing with him directly.”

“He should be – ah, there he is.”

If there was ever a moment she prided herself one, it was that one. Against all odds, she managed to keep her composure, and meet Agent Hotchner’s eyes squarely. Yet, her lips still stung at the memory of her lips against his stubbled cheek; her nose craved the secure, oakey scent on his skin.

“Miss Stark.” He strove for formality, but his voice begged of pleased recognition. What didn’t linger on his words, danced in his eyes – dark eyes that seemed to constantly assemble some private puzzle.

 _Where exactly do I fit?,_ she wondered.

His hand shook hers – gentle, soft. Her bright smile widened, and she forced herself to step back.

“So, what can I do you boys for?”

 “The FBI seems to think this bastard is specifically after Hartford’s contacts,” Clout said, “and he’ll keep on killin’ them off until—”

“When?” Her eyes cut to Rossi.

“Tonight most likely,” he said. “We think this man knew his victims personally. He had affairs with these women, and there was no sign of conflict. Judging by the evidence, the affair was reciprocal. He could still be having affairs within the company.”

“And you’re asking if I know him… intimately?” She raised an eyebrow.  

“No, we’re asking you to spread word through your contacts. It’s likely they might have some clue to who this man might be. If someone speaks up, we may be able to stop him before he gets any further.”

“This man won’t stop until he accomplishes his mission,” Hotch added. “He wants revenge, and the pattern of the murders suggest he’s after someone at the top. The victims started as small providers – affluent, but their husbands were associated with other businesses . The last two victims shifted in M.O – they were solely invested in Hartford.”

Stark nibbled on the thought and nodded.

“You need me to keep Jed and his buddies silent.”

“He’s leaking information to the media to seem like Hartford isn’t a player. The more leaks, the more the press turns against us. We can’t work a case under hostile circumstances.”

“I’ll do what I can, but he’s determined to work against you. If—”

“He is legally obligated to obey federal authorities, especially when his organization is under FBI scrutiny.”

Hotch face hardened – cold, stoney. He was relentless, devoted. Stark’s heart throbbed with admiration.

_What a man._

Stark narrowed an eye and folded her hands in front of her.

“I don’t take kindly to being interrupted.”

“You interrupted my investigation. And, now, I have to mend fences with the media. Local stations turned against us before we could begin a formal investigation.”

“This is Dallas. The media here is against everyone except God and Hartford Steel,” she said, a smile creeping back into her voice. “We supply a lot of jobs.”

“And lately, a lot of bodies,” Rossi said.

“As far as I’m concerned, Hartford Steel is at the center of this investigation,” Hotch said. “I want full surveillance on the central mill morning, noon and night.”

“You supply the boys, and I’ll call in a crew to fix our cameras.” She reached for her phone, sent out a stream of texts. She made a brisk call and hung up, fixed Hotch with a sardonic gaze.

“Satisfied?”

Clout and Rossi turned to consult Hotch, but his focus was on Stark. He was assessing her, challenging her resolve.

 “For now,” he said decisively. “In the meantime, I don’t want any more press statements unless it’s approved by me first.”

Stark nodded curtly. “Agent Jareau has my cell.”

“No, I want you to consult with me directly. Are you prepared for a press conference?”

She made a show of ruffling her hair.

“Not now, surely?”

 “Outside. 15 minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” she drawled, sarcasm palpable. The phone in her hand vibrated and she lifted a finger. “I’ve got to take this – see you in 15.”

She left the room, an antsy Clout in tow.

Rossi turned to Hotch, eyes curious.

 “You don’t think JJ can handle her?”

 “If I deal with her directly she may be more forthcoming.”

 “Right.” Rossi smiled, teeth winking beneath his lips. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that she’s extremely attractive.”

Hotch’s thick, dark eyebrows stitched together “Strictly professional.”

“Sure, sure. I know the number of a fantastic steakhouse downtown. Let me know.”

***

Stark stood silently throughout the press conference. A white, upper class male was the profile – a real, smooth Casanova with connections to Hartford.

Hotch gently touched her hand during the conference, guided her to face the brunt of the press.

“Diana Stark, Communications Executive at Hartford Steel, will be our personal consultant on this case. She will help us guarantee the safety and cooperation of Hartford employees and their families.”

_Crafty, Agent Hotchner._

Stark said her piece and watched as the journalists scattered, slimy hands tip-tapping away at their phones and tablets. Stark hefted a purse over her shoulder, began the tedious task of disembarking the courthouse stairs.

“Stark.”

She brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, offered Agent Hotchner a congenial smile.

“Agent Hotchner, you’re digging me an early grave.”

Hotch inclined his head slightly, an apology in his eyes.

 “Dallas respects you. I need your cooperation.”

“And you’ll have it for as long as I can give it,” she vowed.

Hotch offered her a soft smile. A smile that yearned to talk about so much more than the case, or Hartford.

 “You did great today, I –“

Stark’s purse erupted with shrill pings and vibrations. She reached into her purse, examined the name on the screen.

“Looks like Jed watched the news this morning. Aren’t we lucky? I’ll be seeing your soon, Agent Hotchner.”

She offered him a smirk and turned, phone pressed to her ear.


	5. Semantics

The streets of Dallas were slick with rain the next morning. So slick, the workers that fumbled into the southside mill nearly slipped onto the body left outside the loading dock.

Hotchner and his team infested the site immediately, rain staining their shoulders. Hotch’s own suit was plastered to his skin as he cowered under the dock’s hangar.

“He shifted sites. He isn’t picky about where he sets his victims, as long as it’s on Hartford property.” Derek Morgan said.

 He observed the mill workers that passed: their lips were pent in sneers, their eyes examining the agent distrustfully.

Agent Jareau skittered behind Morgan and Hotch. She smiled at them tightly.

“I can keep the press contained for now.”

“And the employees?” Hotch asked.

She heaved a sigh, ran a hand over her forehead. “Still uncooperative. They won’t talk until they have company permission.”

“Someone is still pissed about what happened at the first mill. We can’t accomplish anything like this,” Derek said.

“Get Diana Stark here immediately. If anyone can get them to talk, it’s her.” Hotch’s eyes roved over the marred body of the victim. He gestured to an investigator in the distance, started in his direction. “Can we cover the body, please?”

Derek raised his eyebrows as Hotch departed, looked at JJ.

“Cover the body? Am I missing something here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

***

Diana Stark strut into the mill an hour later, heels echoing clinking against the cement. Southern charm oozed from the stack of blonde curls that bobbed atop her head. She was dressed in a long, sleek tan skirt and a silky pink blouse. Her buxom curves made the outfit striking, as though the ensemble itself wasn’t enough. Workers watched as she passed, inclined their heads. She smile at them vibrantly, white teeth winking between with pink-covered lips.

Rossi was at her side, guided her beyond the yellow tape.

She removed the large, round sunglasses that shrouded her eyes. The overcast sky deemed them inappropriate, but Stark liked to amuse herself. She all but glowed amid the dark, steely mill.

 “I guess we fixed surveillance on the wrong mill,” she said amicably.

“Miss Stark,” JJ said. Her smile was forced, uneasy. “This is S.A Derek Morgan.”

Stark’s smile widened when she shook Morgan’s hand. Derek’s eyes assessed her carefully.

“I bet if you showed these boys that Texas handshake, they’d warm right up.”

Hotch sidled beside Morgan, hands on his hips. He acknowledged Stark with a grim smile.

“I appreciate you coming out here so early.”

She laughed – an ironic, twinkling sound.

“Well, you asked so nicely, and I’ve barely left my office in a week. I needed a change of scenery—Oh—Charles Branson, is that you?” She pointed to a manager in the distance and beckoned with her finger.

 The manager fumbled over, hard hat fastened on his head.

“I’m awful sorry you had to come all the way out here. Mr. Williams said that I couldn’t tell—“ his voice rattled and his eyes darted to the floor.

She waved her hand dismissively and inclined her head toward the man, eyes narrowed.

“Is Jed here, Charlie?”

The man’s cheeks blossomed with red.

“He, uh– “

“Is Jed Williams here?” The woman’s tone sharpened, as though consoling an unruly child. 

“Uh, no ma’am.”

“That’s right – and until he arrives, we play by my rules. I want you to cooperate with these agents and give them whatever they need, you hear? Now, Charlie, you just follow Agent Jareau and tell her what you know. If you have a problem with somethin’, I’ll be right here. Right next to—“ Her eyes caught on the team of men that buzzed around the covered body. “A corpse. A corpse is what I’ll be next to.”

Charles gulped and motioned for JJ to lead the way. She jumped in front of him with an impressive smile, blonde ponytail bobbing behind her.

Hotch gently touched Diana’s elbow.

 “We can move to another area if you’re uncomfortable,” he said softly.

 “No, I’m fine,” she said, as though trying to convince herself. Her hand lifted to cover his. “What are we looking at here, boys?”

The agents shared a brief look – whether it was prompted by Hotch’s touch or her question, she didn’t’ know.

“As far as we know, the M.O is the same. We won’t know anything else until the autopsy,” Rossi said.

“Have you identified her yet?”

Rossi shook his head.

“Would you mind?” She gestured to the body.

Hotch’s expression was nothing short of severe.

“You don’t have to—”

“Agent Hotchner,” she said brusquely, delectable southern accent emboldening her words. “I went on my first hunting trip when I was five years old. My daddy handed me a gun and told me to shoot. He didn’t say where, or at what, but by the end of that trip I’d shot the most handsome rabbit I ever laid eyes on. It’s hardens you, rabbit killing.”

Hotch’s lips quivered, desperate to mask his humor. He guided her through the crowd of examiners and lifted the sheet.

Stark’s face was impassive as she traced the contours of the deceased woman. She blinked once, twice and gestured for the sheet to be dropped. A second later she pulled out her phone.

“Jed,” she said. “Call Brett, tell him to get his ass down here.”

Her eyes jumped between the three men before they landed on Hotch.

“That there, is the wife of Brett Williams,” she said. “Jed’s brother.”

“He’s beginning to work his way into company executives,” Morgan said. He crossed his arms. “My question is, why go after Brett so soon?”

“He feels pressure from the media,” Rossi said. “We pissed him off by closing off the first dump site.”

There was an unspoken answer written in Stark’s eyes. Her thoughts sang a chorus of scandal and secrets.

Three sets of eyes were fastened on her intently, analyzing her every move.

“Gentlemen, Brett should be here within the hour. If you can hold on until then, he’ll provide your I.D,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Morgan pointed after her, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, that woman knows something,” his voice was rich, brimming with interest. Like a child in pursuit of a juicy rumor.

“Not yet, but she’s suspicious,” Hotch said. Her eyes landed on JJ. “Lets update the profile and call Garcia. We need to learn everything we can about the Williams.”

***

Jed Williams was a tall man. His walk was a lofty, swelled with male pride. His face was round, tan and rugged and he wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat to mask his auburn locks. When the sun hit him just right, you could see the wild, errant strands of red break through. His eyes were an artic blue: dark, cold. They matched the dark blue linen shirt tucked into his jeans. He’d shoved himself into a blazer, quite a feat for a man so muscular and defined.

He greeted the agents with a forced smile, though vibrant nevertheless.

“Feds in my factory, woukd’ve los that bet.” His laughter boomed off the factory walls. “Hope you boys are getting’ to the bottom of all this.”

“We’re certainly trying, S.S.A Aaron Hotchner,” Hotch smiled tightly, offered his hand.

“Jed.” He reciprocated the handshake, withdrew, clapped his hands together. “I’m assuming there’s a good reason I’m out here today?”

Morgan smirked, shook his head and walked away. Rossi bobbed his head in affirmation.

“Other than the fact that a dead body laying on your factory floor, we think you may be able to identify our victim.”

Diana walked to the cluster of agents, a man at her side. He was shorter than Jed, blonde, with stern eyes. He was every bit as handsome as Jed, though more intense. His eyes flickered to Diana.

“I don’t want introductions, I just want to know why I’m here.”

On a normal occasion, she’d smile. Today, she nodded solemnly.

“The FBI can tell you more than I can.”

Brett shook his head.

“I ain’t listening to Feds, so you’re gonna have to tell me, Starkie.”

She saw how Hotch smiled, and Rossi leaned forward. Heat flooded her cheeks.

“Now, that’s somethin’ that finally makes sense.” Jed clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, cast a wink at Diana. “Well, Starkie, let’s get to it.”

Diana flexed her jaw and grabbed Brett’s hand. She led him over to the covered body, gestured for the sheet to be lifted.

She barely flinched as Brett fell to his knees, sobbed at her feet.

Jed remained silent and fixed Diana with a glare that was nothing short of lethal. She stiffened beneath his glare, directed her gaze to Hotch. Her lips quivered with a solemn smile.

_The Devil finally pays his dues._

The sobs subsided and Brett stood. He wiped his nose, turned to Agent Hotchner.

“What – how… “ He took a shaky breath. “Why would someone do this?”

“Our unsub has a emotional connection to Hartford Steel. He feels that someone within the company wronged him in some way. He’ll continue to work his way into the company until he achieves revenge.”

“And we’re supposed to just let ‘im?” Jed shouted. “I’ll be damned if I let this bastard get away with this. I’ll put a bounty on hus heads, call up the boys. We’ll catch this bastard.”

Diana scoffed. “Jed, this isn’t the wild west, for Christsake.”

Jed rounded on Diana, jabbed a finger in her direction.

“The hell it is! My sister-in-law is dead, and you don’t think that calls for justice? I bet you – you working with _them_ is part of the problem. If you would’ve kept your damn mouth shut – “

“With all due respect, Mr. Williams, what you’re proposing is illegal. A bounty, interfering with this investigation and being blatantly uncooperative is obstruction of justice,” Hotch stated matter-of-factly. “If this behavior continues, I _can_ and will arrest you.”

Jed laughed – a booming, buxom sound.

“Sure you will. Look, if catching this bastard means taking a backseat, fine. So far, your tactics ain’t working. You make it work, or I will become involved.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, I imagine you wanna talk with my brother – fine by me. Starkie and me, however, gotta come up with a way to break this to the press. The community loves Laurie – this’ll break hearts.”

He began to stalk away, threw his head over his shoulder.

“Starkie, conference room.”

Dianna stood like a brick wall, limbs frozen. Brett looked in her direction. He shook his head slightly, as though in disbelief.

“Mr. Williams,” Hotch said softly, though his eyes fastened on Dianna. “I realize this is a pressing time, but we need to talk to you. You might know something we don’t.”

Brett sniffed, bobbed his head.

“You mind if I call my kids first, just to hear ‘em? Can I do that?”

“Of course.”

Rossi sighed and grabbed his phone. “I’ll call JJ for the interview. She’ll want to meet us back at the station.”

Hotch turned to address Diana, but she vanquished. He could see her marching in the distance, tan skirt catching in the drafty factory.

***

Stark flipped her curls and exited the conference room. She made her way to the parking lot, fiddled with her keys.

_Another mess, another mess, another mess._

“Stark, do you have a moment?”

She smirked at his presence and turned, unable to mask her amusement.

 “If I didn’t know better Agent Hotchner, I’d say you were stalking me.”

The corner of his lips twitched.

“We haven’t had the formal opportunity to talk.”

 “So, you’ve pinned now as the time? I have to say, Agent Hotchner, for a man with such authority you lack tact.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes playfully.

“You’re still angry at being wrong.”

“I’ll have you know, I did throw prosecutor into the career suggestion pool.”

“And you were partially correct. I used to be one.”

“Do you miss it?”

 “It’s part of another life.” He smiled coolly. “I found something better.”

“Ah, yes, predicting the psychopathic patterns of rapists and murders. It’s must be an uplifting career.”

“It can be grueling,” he agreed. “We—”

The phone is Stark’s hand buzzed and dropped from her hand to the pavement. She hurried to grab it, only to wince and wobble on her heels. Hotch braced his hands on her hips, guided her to stability.

“Are you alright?” He asked sternly, expression dark with worry.

She lifted a hand to dust off her blouse, rightened her curls.

“Just lost my balance, that’s all. I am perfectly fine.”

“Diana,” his voice was deep, consoling. “I shouldn’t have let you see that today.”

“Of course you did! I saved you valuable time. Thank me later,” she suggested.

He didn’t look convinced.

“I’m fine, Agent Hotchner. I promise.”

“Aaron.”

“I’m fine, Aaron,” she amended.

She was suddenly quite aware of the hands on her hips and suggestively wiggled against them.

“If your plan is to hold me like this all day, Aaron, you could at least make it more interesting.”

She waggled her brows and burst into a stream of giddy guffaws at his bewildered expression. Hotch laughed too, amber eyes twinkling.

He wore a goofy smile – so goofy, it prompted more of her laughter. She touched a hand to his lips, as though she could permanently affix his expression.

“You’re always so serious,” she teased, offered him a sly smile. “I haven’t seen you really smile since Mo’s.”

He ducked his head self-consciously.

“It’s the nature of my job. I promise, I’m working on it.”

“So, I need to catch you outside of work and you’ll be susceptible to my charms?”

She withdrew her hand and gestured for Hotch to remove his grasp on her hips. He did, and watched her straighten, pull herself together.

She began to walk backward, her eyes fastened on Hotch as she withdrew to the parking lot.

“I know the name of a great steakhouse downtown.”

He smiled, cheeks pulling in to frame his cheekbones.

“Is this your idea of persuasion?”

“You’re the profiler, Agent. you tell me.”

She flashed him a smile and wiggled her fingers in descension. She walked to her a car, a chuckling Hotchner in her wake.


	6. Puzzled

“PD shut down operations at the southside mill,” Hotch said, depositing his phone in his pocket.

Rossi leaned back in the swiveling chair at the police station, crossed his hands at his stomach.

“Jed Williams will be overjoyed.”

Morgan’s phone rang and he put it on speaker, brought the phone to his lips.

“You’re on speaker, baby girl.”

“Our love is silenced once more. What isn’t silenced, my sweets, is the history of the beloved Williams family.”

“What’d you find, Garcia?” Hotch demanded, settling into a chair.

“So, Brett and Laura Williams were high school sweethearts who applied for a marriage license two years ago. Their kids, Ryan and Jacob, are in elementary school and are the simply the cutest. Just look at those cheeks! Why do families put family photos online? Anyone can –”

“Garcia,” Hotch redirected.

 “Yes, right – overall I found nothing unusual – except a large house in the country she purchased two years ago. Our dearest Brett’s name was _not_ on the deed.”

“The perfect place to conduct an affair,” Rossi noted. “Any recent transactions? Gas, takeout stops, grocery stores – anything that suggests she traveled there last night?”

“Mmm – nada.”

“I remember the husband said left town for church activities,” Prentiss said. “He said the locations varied on the venue.”

“We need to find her church.” Hotch’s eyes landed on JJ. “Garcia, what do you have on the Williams family?”

 “Oh, I was _so_ hoping you’d ask– our resident CEO, Jedediah Williams has quite the life, let me _tell_ you. His current wife, Andrea, used to be a _legal_ prostitute in – wouldn’t you believe it – Vegas. It’s too rich! What’s richer, is that Andrea isn’t his first wife. Oh, ho, no! She is lucky Mrs. Williams number 3.”

“The Williams have a paper trail dating into the 1930s,” she said. “Jed’s grandfather started Hartford Steel in the 1930s, and he was _very_ successful. By the time he turned the reins over to Jed’s father, Jacob Williams, he’d added a quirky little clause to the company contract. Get this, Jed Williams couldn’t inherit the family biz until he married. But not just any woman would do – no,   it had to be the daughter of the grandfather’s business partner, Hex Miller.”

“So, he married the first wife for the money and, what, divorced her?” Rossi asked. The Agents turned to look at him, humor in their eyes. He raised a finger. “Okay – three times, but I never did _that_.”

“See, that’s the thing – the first wife wasn’t a Miller. He married some girl out of high school, got a quickie divorce, and moved onto his next conquest. You can guarantee Daddy Williams wasn’t happy, so a year later Jed married again.”

“Was she a Miller?” Prentiss asked.

“That’s the question, isn’t it? The name on the marriage certificate was redacted. So, I did some digging through the Miller family history and it turns out Jed’s second wife is all but impossible to find. I found the name Miller in conjunction with several health records where Jed was the co-signer, but other than that… nada.”

“What kind of health records?” Hotch demanded.

 “All kinds, sir. Of course these were sealed, so I had to do some breaking and entering, but whoever this woman is, she was a _rag doll._ I’m talking frequent E.R visits and domestic drama. When I cross-referenced her medical history with Dallas PD, I found a plethora of dirt that streamlined through Jed William’s house. I’m talking frequent 9-1-1 calls and domestic disturbances. According to one complaint, Jed took a cast iron skillet – no kidding, a _skillet_ – and completely shattered two of her ribs. That incident was apparently enough for mystery wife no. 2 to file for divorce two years ago citing irreconcilable differences.”

“When someone suffers that caliber abuse it’s likely they never get over it,” Reid said. “Garcia, did she visit any psychiatrists or therapists?”

“Unfortunately, np. She became ghost after the divorce. What I can tell you is that 2 months after Jed and her hit splitsville, a Diana Stark – who already owned 10 percent of Hartford Holdings – was given an _additional_ 20 percent from Brett Williams, of all people.”

“That explains the relationship between Brett Williams and Stark,” Rossi said. “She was active in the company during Jed’s inter-marital turmoil. She’s the backbone of Hartford.”

“Which means she can lead us to the second wife,” Derek added. “We find her, she could be the key to understanding why the unsub chose Laura Williams as his latest victim.”

Hotch turned toward JJ. “I want Jed and Brett Williams brought in for questioning immediately.”

“What about Stark?”

Hotch’s eyes flickered to Rossi. The older agent nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Rossi and I will speak with her. In the meantime, Garcia, I want every possible detail about Hartford you can find – a recent list of fired employees, shareholders, anything that could lead us to our unsub. Run a background search on Diana Stark and see what you can find.”

“My will is to serve.  _Adios, mi amigos.”_

Hotch waited for his team to fan out and lifted the phone to his pocket.

“Diana? This is Aaron Hotchner. I need you to meet me tonight.”

***

Hotch straightened his tie at the restaurant and watched Dave Rossi from the passenger seat. He flashed him an ironic smile as he reached for the suburban’s handle.

“You’re not coming.”

“Not a chance,” Rossi said. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Hotch shook his head.

“Dave, this isn’t a –”

“Oh, of course not. We’re working a case and I’m standing watch. There’s a serial killer on the loose, you know.”

Hotch heaved a lofty sigh and exited the car. The steakhouse he entered was formal – too formal for a woman like Diana Stark, he thought. He straightened his tie as the host escorted him to the table where Diana sat – patient, quiet. She rose when he approached, brushed a blonde curl from her forehead. A nervous gesture.

She knew he noticed.

 “Aaron,” she breathed in a delectable Texas accent. “Pleasure to see you.”

“Diana,” he greeted stiffly, though it begged a warm greeting. He offered her a crisp smile, his eyes scrunched up at the sides.

“I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice.”

She waved a hand and gestured for Aaron to sit. “I was hoping you’d take me up on my offer, but I know business when I hear it. I’m surprised you didn’t call me to the station?”

Hotch tightened his tie, straightened in his chair, and fastened a steely stare.

Stark nodded in silent affirmation, looked to the sky.

“Jed is there, and you want us separate.”

“He’ll give you orders you’ll be compelled to comply. I need you at full autonomy.”

She bowed her head a moment and a look of remorse flashed through her eyes. It was fleeting, small, but unmistakable.

“Is something wrong?

_As if it’s that simple._

She flashed him a toothy smile. “Well, lets see. There’s a serial killer running amuck my factories, and I reckon you’re about to tell me that he’s after my boss. And that somehow, through whatever dealings Jed has managed, he managed to piss someone off. So, yes, Agent Hotchner, there is something very, very wrong.”

“I can’t imagine the pressure you must be under, but I need answers,” he said. “I know you, of all people, would be honest with me.”

She gave a breathy laugh – insecure, small. It was the most weakness she’d ever allowed Hotch to see.

“And how do you know that?”

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re an intelligent person, and your loyalties attempt to rule you. But truth will always win because you know the value of fact. You’ve been in the game too long.”

She pursed her lips, tilted her head slightly.

“Be that as it may, my loyalties do hold pose certain boundaries. I will answer as truthfully as I can, when I can, but I… I am held to greater powers.”

Hotch gave a succinct nod, sharpened his gaze.

“Our investigation led us to dig through the Williams’s personal affairs. He’s been married three times.”

“I’m aware.”

“We don’t know the identity of his second wife.”

“She was a Miller,” she said. Each word was calculated, tentative. “She disappeared after the divorce.”

“Do you have any idea where she went?”

“Not far enough,” she muttered.

His eyes traced her suspiciously, carefully. “Diana, if you ‘re withholding – “

The phone in Hotch’s pocket came to life, and he held up a finger before answering it.

“Hotchner.”

“Hotch, it’s Morgan. Hey, Garcia couldn’t get into Stark’s file – it’s sealed. We tried to get Clout to unseal it, but Jed Williams was in the room. He found out about—”

A sudden commotion filled the restaurant. Every inch of the formidable Jed Williams occupied the front of the restaurant. His eyes snagged on Hotch, and he stalked across the room, an exasperated Rossi at his back. By the time he reached the table, Stark was on her feet. She held up her hands in a warding gesture.

“Jedediah Josiah Williams, you need to calm down.”

“Right, so you can spill more to the fucking Feds? I ain’t stupid! How could you – “  

“Mr. Williams, I need you to follow me back to the station,” Rossi said. His eyes canvassed the room. “Now.”

Hotch pocketed his phone and observed Diana’s stance. She was poised defensively – her forearms raised. He saw the trepidation in her eyes. She knew what was next, anticipated it. Garcia’s words flashed through his mind: “ _She became a ghost after the divorce….”_

“Rossi, grab him – grab him, now!”

Jed’s hand lifted behind his head, and quickly found it’s desired trajectory.


	7. Traction

On the rare occasions she was home, Stark relished in music. Frank Sinatra crooned, and she lounged in the living room. She sunk into the plush sofa, allowed her feet to dance along to the beat, held a bag of ice to her eye.

She heard shuffling through the open back door, sighed irritably.

“Cadbury, no mud!”

Her voice summoned a plump chocolate Labrador. His tail swished contently as he bound through the open backyard doors. His paws left brown tracks on the floor, each step announced by a muddy plop.

She gave the dog a vexed look.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

Oh, her words were merely bite. She couldn’t be mad at Cadbury – especially not after she’d left him practically alone for weeks. If it weren’t for the neighbors and their Collie, her chocolate mutt would be lonely. Or, lonelier.

Cadbury still hadn’t gotten over the death of Gringo three months ago. Gringo – a springer spaniel – was a rowdy pup, but even his temperament couldn’t fend off old age. Stark knew she should replace him, allow a newer, happier pup to fumble through her halls, but she couldn’t draw her heart to action.

He’d seen too much, loved her too much.

Oh, Gringo.

“Soon,” she promised Cadbury, scratched behind his floppy ears.

A knocked sounded at her door and before she could amble to her feet, Cadbury was there. He howled and hopped, desperate to break through the glass.

Stark fluffed her curls, stalked to the door. Her fingers grappled the handle, and she turned her eyes to the ceiling in a silent plea.

 _Please don’t let it be_ –

“Aaron?”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes flickered down to her outfit – an  oversized shirt and the miniscule shorts that winked beneath it.

She grabbed at Cadbury’s collar with both hands, suctioned his wriggling body between her legs.

Hotch offered her a tight smile, looked down at Cadbury.

“It might be easier if you invited me inside.”

“Well, that all depends on the origin of your visit, now, doesn’t it?”

“I have a few questions.”

Her eyes trickled to the floor and her grip on Cadbury slackened.

_It was only a matter of time._

She nodded and gestured inside.

Hotch slid through and was promptly tackled by Cadbury. Sniffs and licks later, he found the agent’s admiration sufficient and trotted away.

The green, green grass in Stark’s eyes was bitten with frost.

“Wherever this conversation may lead—”

Hotch moved closer to loom over Stark. She was tall enough in heels, but in bare feet she was average. Her nose nearly thunked against his chest.

“I need you to lift your shirt,” he demanded.

Stark sputtered a laugh. “Just how thorough is your investigation here, Aaron?”

His eyes drilled mercilessly into hers.

Though his tone was soft, the command in it was explicit: “Lift your shirt, Diana.”

_You can back away, Stark. You can back away and throw him out on his ass._

She shook her head, raised her hands to ward him away. Trembles seized her fingers, her arms.

“No,” she cleared her throat to steady her voice. “No, I won’t.”

Hotch’s hand reached hold to clasp the silky fabric of her shirt. She winced as he pulled it just beneath her breasts, ever mindful of her decency.

He inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He released the fabric to fall against her stomach.

“Have you been to the doctor?”

She snorted. “What use is that? It’s just a few bruises. They’ll heal.”

“Diana, you winced bending to retrieve your phone. There’s more than bruising,” he said seriously. “He hit you in the restaurant. We have witnesses.”

She dared meet his eyes. They were cool, steady, composed.

“We’ll keep it contained. It’s not worth the PR disaster.”

“I swear to God, Diana, you need to pursue this. Tell me about the abuse, I’ll lock him up right now. He’s near the cell – all I need is your confession.”

“Again, it’s not worth the PR disaster. Hartford just can’t handle this right now. Outside of investigation, maybe, but, now—“

“Diana, I know you’re his second wife,” he said. He bent to ensnare her traveling eyes.

She lifted a trembling hand to her lips.

“Diana, I can protect you. He’ll never raise a hand against you again, but I need you to trust me.”

Cadbury whined at Diana’s calf. She reached down to fondle his ear.

“Let me help you.” Hotch’s hand caressed the underside of her chin, drew her close. She winced at the pain of her eye, clutched his forearms with her hands.

“I can’t, Aaron, I can’t. Not right now –”

“You don’t owe him anything. I won’t let him strike you again.”

She smiled at him sadly, leaned into his caress. He pulled her close enough to brace his lips against hers – a light, tender admonition. It was sweet and cautious. Hotch’s free hand rested at her hip, held her steady as he deepened their kiss.

She pulled away, lifted her eyebrows.

“You fell for my charms. The key was to get you away from your team, hm?”

“I fell for your charms the moment I saw you,” he said. “Whatever this is – whatever it could be – can’t happen until we finish here. My team will find our unsub, and I will arrest Jed Williams.”

“No, you won’t because I won’t talk. He doesn’t matter.”

“He hit you, Diana.”

“Look at it this way – he can’t do more than hit because I own a portion of his company. If I were to, say, disappear, my portion goes to whomever I choose.”

He nodded.

“That’s partially why I’m here. I need to ask you question about Laura Williams and your role in the company.

She tilted her head.

“My team is investigating Laura William’s private estate,” Hotch explained. “She may have met the unsub there before death.”

Stark pursed her lips thoughtfully. She noticed Hotch’s eyes on them and giggled before detatching herself from his arms.

“Sit,” she pointed to the couch.

“Yes ma’am,” he teased and settled in the corner. Stark sat on the couch opposite him. Cadbury leapt up, settled his head on her lap.

“She consulted me before she bought it,” Stark said. “I gave her my realtor.”

“Did she go there often? Did she ever say anything to you about it?”

Stark’s eyes were cynical, as though she were fighting the urge to roll them.

“Laura and I weren’t what we call ‘simpatico’ – now, Brett and I, we’re close. We were best friends in grade school right up ‘til I went to Yale. I know damn well he didn’t know about the house.”

She could see Hotch bookmark that fun fact.

“But nothing more than that?”

“Pft, no.” She swatted her hand. “He and I were like siblings, still are – when Jed isn’t riding his ass.”

““Is that why he transferred a portion of his inheritance to you?”

Stark remained still, too still. Cadbury’s brown eyes trickled up to her in silent inquiry.

“He has other investments. He could afford to,” she said carefully.

“That’s not the only reason.”

She sighed and patted Cadbury’s head lightly. The pupper licked her thigh, wagged his tail.

“Laura had an affair with Jed while we were married.”

“So Brett designated a portion of his inheritance for you out of guilt?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.” She contemplated a moment, laughed humorlessly. “Or maybe it was, hell if I care. All I know is that Brett was tired of Jed controlling his life. Laura crossed the line and the best way to get back at him was to do so through me. Nothing pisses that man off more than me.”

“He still married you,” Hotch said, expression stern.

Stark looked nothing short of cynical.

“Jed craves extravagance. We bought a ranch together and invested in Brett’s farm. Between those assets and Hartford, he had the lifestyle he wanted. I was just a token.”

 “So, why did you agree you marry him?”

“Daddy said so,” she said. “He… he said I couldn’t finish Yale. I was midway through my master’s and he was fixin’ to revoke my inheritance. And my mother – oh, my mother,” she blew out a sigh. “That foul woman would’ve loathed me something fierce.”

“How did they digest your divorce?”

“They didn’t, which is half the reason I filed. They died in a car accident second year Jed and I were married,” she explained.

“You and Jed never conceived?”

Stark shook her head, fixed a smile so full of sorrow it could’ve made Saints weep.

“A man like that doesn’t deserve children.”

“His wife is expecting,” he said. “Do you know if he maintained his affair with Laura?”

 “No, Brett kept her under a pretty tight watch – too tight.” She narrowed her eyes. “You think Jed did this.”

“ If he was notorious for affairs we can’t rule him out.”

“Take my word for it – as a former Mrs. Williams – Jed had no particular flavor for the wives of our shareholders. The women murdered weren’t his type.”

He tilted his head. “What type would that be?”

“Oh, brunette, tall, skinny, busty, submissive. Jed loves the chase. The women murdered – women I knew quite well – weren’t prey. They commanded significant control over their husbands and children and they were intolerant of failure.”

Recognition flashed over Hotch’s face. He whipped out his phone, pressed it to his ear.

“Reid, I need you to meet me back at the station. We need to reanalyze the victims.”

He hung up and Stark maneuvered Cadbury off her lap, scooched forward on the couch.

“What’re you thinking, Aaron?”

“All of his victims were blonde,” he said. “If we cross match their patterns and talk with their families, we’ll be able to distinguish our unsub’s next target.”

Hotch rose from the couch, held his hand out to Diana. She took it happily, bounced to her feet. They walked toward the door, Cadbury panting behind them.

“Do you think he’ll strike again tonight?”

“If our profile’s right, yes. Our search is too extensive right now and the families aren’t talkative.”

“Welcome to Texas.” She beamed. She eased open the front door and squeezed his hand. “Don’t work too hard tonight, alright?”

He chuckled before he released her hand, pressed a kiss to her cheek. He paused as he pulled away, breathed in.

“The sooner this case is over, the better,” his voice was a deep, yearning growl.

 Stark closed her eyes, fought the savory throb beneath her stomach.

“Work faster, then,” she plead and playfully shoved his chest. “Now get out of here before I do something drastic to make you stay.”

He smiled inwardly, cheeks hallowing delectably. “Is that a promise?” 

“Out!”

 


	8. Lightning

Stark fondled her horse’s snout, cooed sweet nothing in his ears. The stallion, Grand Belvedere, leaned into the  ministrations, nuzzled against Stark’s hand.

Horses were Stark’s solace. She loved to ride them, train them, race them. She loved their agility and speed; the reserved way they conducted their lives. Her horses were quiet, tender, sweet. She loved them, and any moment spent in their presences was a moment worth millions.

Of course, there was Cadbury. He, too, loved horses. He whirled around their sleek legs while he traced invisible scent trails around the barn. Her eyes slid to where the dog bounced, his tail sloshing out the side of his mouth.

Danny, one of Stark’s stable hands, giggled at Cadbury’s antics. She leaned against her shovel and cast Stark a knowing look before continuing to muck her stall.

“Mornin’, ladies.”

Brett Williams stood in the atrium of the barn. He worn a sorrowful smile and tilted his hat in greeting

Stark turned to lean against Grand Belvedere’s stall and regarded Brett solemnly. Her heart ached for him. His life – tremulous and competitive as it was – began and ended with Laura. Ryan and Jacob were all he had left, and she knew he was dubious about his ability to raise them alone.

It wasn’t fair, she thought.

“Apparently, my house has become the new stop for unannounced visits.” She held her hand out to him. Brett accepted it gratefully, pressed a kissed to the back of her hand.

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said. “The feds didn’t – Fucking Christ, where’d you get the shiner?!”

“I believe using ‘fucking’ and ‘Christ’ in a curse is doubly sinning, Brett Williams.”

“Only person sinnin’ is that bastard who did that.” He pointed to her eye accusingly. A shadow drew across his face and his mouth set into a grim line.

“Jed did that, didn’t he? That’s why he’s a suspect, that’s why they locked him up.”

“Hold on – Jed’s a suspect? Agent Hotchner said he was just in the station for questioning.”

Brett bobbled his head, placed his hands on his jeaned hips.

“Well, yeah, yesterday, but this mornin’ I got a call from Jess sayin’ he’d was taken in custody on account of there being no murder last night while he was being questioned. You’re telling me no one called you?”

Stark blew out through her nose. “If they did, I haven’t checked my phone yet this morning. I just wanted a few hours off, I just wanted –” The side of her hand began to throb, and she raised a hand to nurse it.

_They think he’s actually capable of this._

“His name’s already hit the news, Starkie. The bastards been floodin’ his house all mornin’. Damn Stamper’s been calling me all morning askin’ –”

Her head whipped up.

“Our partners,” she snapped. “We need to run some damage control. Call –”

“Look, that’s dead ‘n gone.” Brett laid a hand on her shoulder, brought her under his arm. It was the embrace a sibling might give – strong, supportive. Stark found herself leaning into it freely. “Right now, best you can do is cover that shiner and get down the station. Agent Hotcher’s qbeen looking for you.”

Her cheek began to reddened at the thought, and she quickly averted her head before Brett could notice.

Brett sighed. “I just hope they catch the real bastard that done this. I know Jed liked to sleep around, but he ain’t a killer. And Laurie – you know how he felt about Laurie. He would’ve…”

Stark wrapped her hand around Brett’s shoulder and squeezed. The palpable pain on his face – the helplessness – transported her to another time. A time when she was younger, a time when Brett met Laura Harrelson at a high school dance. Jed watched across the room, the flames in his eyes fanned by jealousy. During the affair, she knew Jed loved her, that his feelings were genuine. Just not as genuine as Brett’s. Jed had an ironic perspective on love – he was always taking from Stark, and expecting something new, exciting. He needed the passion and spark every day of their lives. Without it, well, he evolved into a monster.

But love – it wasn’t always exciting. The fervor dies; the endless passion dies.. It rouses now and again – waits around for a sensual opening – but love craved routine. It craved front-porch rockers, and Sunday-morning brunches. It craved a family, and warm kisses. A man like Jed – he didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve love.

But that didn’t mean he deserved jail for a crime he didn’t commit, Stark thought.

“I’ll head on over to the station. Until I run damage control, Jess doesn’t say a word to anyone. Brett Williams– so _help me God_ – not a word.”

She wrestled out from under Brett and called Cadbury to her side. The lab happily obliged and licked Brett’s hand on their way from the barn.

***

JJ and Stark peered into the room where Morgan interrogated Jed. Morgan leaned over the table, and Jed sat back coolly, hands crossed behind his head.

“Jed, I’m going to ask you again – did you have sex with any of these women?”

Jed’s eyes flickered to the pictures of women fanned out on the table.

“Lawyer,” he replied.

“Jed,” Morgan said, tone sympathetic. “If you aren’t guilty, all you have to do is say so. There’s no need for a lawyer if you didn’t do this. So, one last time – did you have sex with any of these women?”

Jed and Morgan exchanged a long-suffering glare, before Jed finally nodded.

“I do remember when I – oh, wait.” He feigned a glance at one of the women on the table. “Never mind, she reminded me of someone else. Lawyer.”

“Jed –”

“Tell Starkie to her little ass in here and get my lawyer.” His eyes flickered to the glass. “You hear me, Diana? Get Steiger on the phone now. I ain’t saying jack shit until he gets here.”

“You don’t have to go in there,” JJ said.

“Technically, I work for him, so I do,” she countered, eyes fastened on Jed.

“You also own 30 percent of the company. You don’t owe him anything.”

“Agent Jureau, I suggest you try divorcing someone. No matter how terribly a marriage ends, you have this sense of obligation. Every time you slept together, every wedding you attended, every bout of sickness – you can’t just forget them.” She walked to the interrogation office’s door, wrapped a hand around the handle. “He may be a bastard, but he’s my bastard.”

She entered the room and crossed her arms. She shook her head, cowboy hat jostling slightly.

“Why, I never thought I’d see the day.” Her eyes scratched over him and a smirk lilted her lips. “If only Daddy could see you now.”

Jed barked out a laugh, slapped the table with one cuffed hand.  

“Put away the whips, Starkie. Pinned by the hogs or not, you could’ve done a lot worse.”

“I like to think I would’ve married an accountant. They know how to calculate the odds. You obviously don’t.”

Agent Morgan’s eyes darted between the Dallas natives. Each seemed to challenge and assess the other. Their speech dared an interesting pattern; a pattern Morgan knew he could capitalize on.

“Ms. Stark, could I speak to you outside for a moment?”

“She ain’t goin’ any where until she gets my lawyer.”

“Of course, Agent Morgan.” Her eyes flickered to Jed. “If I were you, I’d be conducting some careful calculations in our absence.”

The two stepped outside, where Morgan put a hand on his hips.

“You and him – whatever history is between the both of you – I want to use that. If you press hard enough, you could get him to talk.”

“Morgan, that’s not fair to her,” JJ said. “He’s proven to be violent, and they already have a history together.”

Morgan raised a calming hand. “We’ll be right outside. Jed might be rash, but he’s not stupid.” His eyes landed on Stark. “He won’t touch you again, I promise.”

“The touching I can take. My question is: What do you want him to say?”

“That man slept with one or more of those women, and I need to know who. We already know he had an affair with Laura Williams. I need to know if he did it again.”

 “Maybe we should call Hotch first,” JJ said. “He’d want to know before –”

“Hotch is busy at the mill. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”

“The women are out of my wheelhouse, but I’ll try to Laura. Just… watch the door. If he goes, he’ll go fast.”

Stark inclined her head and entered the interrogation room. She watched the door close behind her and fastened a steely gaze on Jed.

He held out in hands in an impatient gesture.

“Well, where’s Steiger?”

Stark stood silently for a moment, observed her ex-husband. His hair was longer and his steel-cut chin was decorated with stubble. During their marriage, he was adamant about cleanliness. He always wore it closely cropped, minded the coarse hairs on his cheeks. There was a period in their marriage where Jed wore his beard freely, she recalled. She teased him about its length, compared him to something of an animal. Several weeks prior, she noticed a similar look – the length of his beard, the untamed frizz of red on his head.

Stark’s heart leaped in her chest.

_Oh, Jed._

“Do you remember the time you took me to see _The Lion King_ on Broadway?”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, tilted his head.

“I don’t see how –”

“It was just starting to get cold. I wore that old petticoat Brett bought me – the plaid one. When we got inside, you helped me out of it and said, “I don’t like singin’, or dancin’ much, but if it means somethin’ to you, I’ll sit through this monkey shit.””

Her eyes were distant, glazed. She raised her fingers as she spoke, as though she were weaving a memory.

“Before the lights went off you took my hand. It was so unlike you that I – I …” She shook her head suddenly, dismissing a wayward emotion. “We didn’t fight that night, didn’t speak. We simply sat and watched. I remember at one point, before the intermission, you were so entranced by the characters that I just couldn’t – I wanted proof that the Jed Williams I knew was sitting next to me. So, I reached out and touched your chin – just to convince myself I wasn’t dreaming. You were growing a beard then. It felt so different between my fingertips, like home. I thought we were turning over a new leaf. I thought you could change.”

Her eyes broke their trance and landed on Jed. She offered him a terse smile.

Jed tensed his shoulders and refused to meet her eyes, focused on a corner in the room.

“It wasn’t all bad, Starkie.”

“You’re right. But it could’ve been better if you tried.”

Jed’s eyes narrowed, flickered to hers.

“That’s not fair. A marriage works both ways, and you were never around when I needed you, when I needed support—”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” she said, nonplussed. “When things became difficult, you raised your fists, but you can’t pummel your way through life, Jed. You were determined to end our marriage from the start.”

Jed remained quiet, though his cheeks were red. If he was embarrassed or irate, she couldn’t tell. Silence wasn’t fitting for Jed – it was a sign of dark things to come.

She was close.

“You never told the lawyers the truth, the real reason we divorced. You didn’t beat me for kicks – no, you were venting a greater frustration, I understand that now.” She tilted her head curiously. “My question is: Did you ever tell her?”

“What the hell you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Did Laura know you loved her, truly?” She waved a hand carelessly. “I’m assuming you knew she loved you, too.”

“I never – she didn’t –“

“It was obvious. I convinced myself I never saw it, but who could be so blind? You changed for her, grew your beard out for her. That night – the Broadway play in Dallas, the affection – it was her. You were finally happy, and when Brett and I found out about the affair…” She drew a hand along her side, fought the urge to wince.

Tears brimmed in Jed’s eyes and he leaped from her chair, hand flailing.

“You don’t know what she meant to me, you don’t know –”

“I know she meant more to you than me and that you slept with her the night before she died. You couldn’t help yourself.” She offered him a small, selfless smile. “You loved her.”

“And what do you know about love?” He grit between his teeth. “You never showed emotion – you never allowed yourself to feel. You never loved me; you loved your friendship with Brett. It was always: Brett and me this, and Brett and me that – Laurie hated you somethin’ fierce.” He shook his hands, cast them in Stark’s direction. “She never loved him. We were both livin’ lies!”

“No, Jed,” she remained cool, stoic. “No, she loved you and Brett both, but she wasn’t going to leave him. They were happy together. ”

“No, she told me – she told me she would leave him – she told me she was miserable! The other night – the other night she said she loved me! People don’t lie about that, Diana. She _didn’t_ lie about that.”

Stark tilted her head.

“You saw her, then? The other night?”

Jed threw his hands to the air. “Damn right I did! We – we had this place we would go – that house our relator sold her.” Jed slowly deflated, the life draining from his shoulders. “She wanted to escape the kids – our kids.”

“Ryan and Jacob aren’t your children, Jed. They’re your nephews,” she spoke softly. Her eyes lifted to the two-sided glass.

Jed ran his hands through his hair, nodded his head in silent thought. “When she left him, they’d be mine. I’d adopt ‘em, take ‘em in.”

“She was never going to leave you, Jed.”

“Now, that’s a damn lie!” She jabbed a finger in her direction. “She loved me – more than him. She was gonna leave him – she told me, God dammit!”

She flashed one last look to the glass, and fastened her eyes back on the prey. She could taste the disdain on her tongue, poised to strike. She raised her chin and stiffened her shoulders.

“But she didn’t leave – she didn’t love you enough _to leave._ You were never enough, and you never will be.”

Stark read once that when lightning strikes, the body knows. The hairs on your head and skin begin to rise, enticed by excitement. It’s a warning to the senses; a breath of caution.

If lightning was a human, it would’ve been Jed Williams.


	9. Losing Steam

The hair on her arms stood erect. Stark went to dodge the first wallop by rolling beneath the table. Her yes snagged on it, and she willed her body to fall forward. If she could just move fast enough, she’d make it.

Jed’s hand caught in her shirt and hauled her backward just before she hit the floor. She bucked against his hold, threw her elbows into his gut. The interrogation room door screeched open.

Jed cursed and grunted in pain. He released his hold on Stark and sent her whirling through the air. Derek Morgan caught her around her waist and braced her against the room wall. His muscles, corded like steel, formed a wall between Stark and her assailant.  

Jed was crumpled to the floor. He cradled his jaw, probed it tenderly, and winced.

Aaron Hotchner loomed over him with eyes that raged in a silent storm. Where Jed was lightning; Hotch was the thunder. His presence dominated the room. Despite his physical exertion, he barely spared an extra breath.

“I think you broke my damn jaw,” Jed said. His tone held the slightest air of admiration, appreciation.

“You broke the law, and this isn’t the first time you’ve offended my investigation. You withheld information, conspired against my operations and assaulted a woman twice. If I had it my way, you’d be incarcerated by the end of the day.”

“If anyone assaulted _anybody,_ it’d be you,” Jed argued. “You feds ain’t supposed to be hittin’ people. You’re supposed to be findin’ this bastard.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already.”

Jed leaped from the floor, his cheeks red.

“I didn’t kill _anyone._ I ain’t capable.” His eyes flashed to Stark. “Tell him I didn’t do this.”

Hotch stepped between Jed’s line of sight, effectively stowing Stark behind him.

“As of right now, you may no longer contact Diana Stark. She is being placed under FBI protection –”

Hotch narrowed his eyes. “As of now, you may no longer contact Diana Stark. She is being placed under FBI protection—”

“Protection?! I’m her family, her boss – She’s _mine!_ What makes you think –”

“Nobody owns Diana Stark, and I think you know that. Have a seat. Your lawyer is in transit.” Hotch threw a glance over his shoulder. “Morgan, get her out of here.”

Jed began to sputter, to charge toward the door. He yelled Diana’s name, yelled for his innocence. Diana departed with Morgan as officers filed into the room. Clout stood among them, his face grave. His eyes flashed to hers and offered her a small nod.

Jed wouldn’t be held for long – of that, she was sure.

***

JJ and Morgan fixed Stark with worried glances. Morgan reached out to touch her shoulder.

“You okay?”

Stark kneaded the wrinkled in her shirt, straightened. She tilted her head to side, offered Morgan an amused smile.

“What happened to ‘he won’t touch you?’ I hope your job isn’t predicated on empty promises.”

“Miss Stark, I am so –”

“I volunteered.” Her eyes flickered to the window where Hotch tore into Jed. Though cool, she could see the distraught beneath his skin, the contempt. She studied Jed’s red face, his white knuckles. “I still don’t think he did this.”

“If he didn’t, we’ll find out soon enough. We have enough evidence right now to detain him. If something happens tonight….” Derek waved a hand.

“Let’s hope for the sake of Hartford something does. Agent Jureau, the press will be rabid. I’ve contained his wife for as long as I can, but you should prepare yourself for the worst.” Her pocket began to vibrate and she let her head fall back on her shoulders.

_So it begins._

The interrogation door slid open and Hotch stepped between his two agents, arms crossed. Stark lifted her head and examined the severity of his face, the brooding descent of his brow. When he spoke his voice left little room for rebuttal:

“What happened in there was unacceptable. I expect more from two seasoned agents. To allow her in there unsupervised was reckless and unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

“Hotch, we got him to talk. If it wasn’t for her we’d still be at square one,” Morgan said.

Hotch’s face was nothing short of severe.

“You sent her in there unprotected with a man who has a history of domestic violence. A history where she was the main victim. In this case the results don’t justify the means.”

Stark swallowed her silence and stepped up to Hotch. She leveled his stare, narrowed a playful eye.

“Aaron Hotchner, you are just too bent up about this. I promise you, I’ll live to see another day. To survive this day is another matter entirely.” She wiggled the pulsating phone in her hand.

His eyes softened slightly.

He turned stiffly to his agents with pinched features.

“We’ll continue this discussion later. Call Rossi and find out whatever you can about the last night Laura Williams was alive.” His eyes flashed to Stark. “Miss Stark, a moment?”

She cast him a subtle nod and allowed him to whisk her into an empty interrogation room. She stared at the two-sided glass, saw herself mirrored there. She lifted a hand to touch the red blemish on her cheek, the bluish marks at her neck.

_Looks like I’ll be making a Sephora run before I get in front any cameras._

“Agent, lets make this quick. My ship is sinking fast and I don’t have much time.” She probed her cheek again and sighed. “Jed will tell you everything you need to know now. I’m still not convinced he did any of it – especially Laura. I mean, you saw his reaction.”

When he didn’t reply, her eyes flickered up the mirror. There, Hotch stood. He loomed over her body like a storm cloud, streaks of thunder and lightning clashing around him. His eyebrows were pinched together, and overshadowed his severe countenance. She could just barely discern his eyes, dark though they were.

Her heart dropped.

“Now, I know you’re not worried about me. I’m fine.”

“This is the second time you’ve been injured on my watch, Diana.” His mouth bobbled in a thin, firm line. “What happened in there was unacceptable.”

“I volunteered,” she insisted. “And I got your team closer than they were before. I cooperated, you see. Isn’t that what you wanted from the beginning?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then, what is?” She whirled to face him, crossed her arms with finality. “Look, Aaron: do you want answers, or not?”

“Not at the expense of –”

She held up a hand.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you, or do you not want this case solved?”

His eyes sharpened.

“I’m taking that as a yes. To solve your case, you need answers. Now, you have some.” She dared a glance at her pulsating phone. “I need to run. Call me when you have any developments.”

“Diana.” His hand flitted to her elbow, only to fall. He looked down the appendage like it was a stranger. He squared his jaw, feasted on her with an  advisory look.

“I meant what I said about protection. I want an agent with you around the clock.”

Stark belted out her trademark laugh, shook her head.

“If you stick an agent with me, I’d lose my authority,” she said. She fixed him with a sarcastic look. “Country boys don’t do business with feds.”

“Your security is my main priority.” He said. “If Jed is working with other people, you could be caught in the crosshairs. I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“Well, last I checked you don’t have to.” She summoned a phone to her ear and flashed him a crisp smile. “You know where to find me.”

***

Stark found herself staring down the losing end of an awful day. Her face ached and her shoulders sagged under the weight of demands.

A board meeting, a press conference, a crisis meeting – Hartford was a fiery pit, and she was its sacrifice.

Black danced across the sky when Stark strode from her office. She glanced at the running lights of a vehicle in the parking lot – black and large like the night.

She snorted and marched up to the window, raised a slim finger to tap on the glass.

“Agent Prentiss,” she said as the window rolled down. “Don’t you have a murderer to hunt down?”

“Could find him sooner if he follows you,” Prentiss said with a crisp smile.

“We can only hope he’d be so foolish. I pack well enough.” She patted the bulge at her hip.

Prentiss bit back a smirk.

“Just doing my job.”

“And I’m doing mine,” Stark said. “I can understand the worry on work ground, but you best not follow me home. I don’t do babysitters.”

Prentiss held up her hands. “I just have to follow you to the driveway. There’s no current reason to believe the unsub would target you at home, if he does at all.”

Stark arched a blonde brow.

“So, our unsub isn’t Jed, then?”

Prentiss shook her head. “We don’t have enough evidence to convict him, but we don’t have enough to release him either. If something happens tonight, he’ll be released.”

Stark nodded sharply, touched a finger to her throbbing forehead. In the parking lot, stress seemed to collapse around her. She felt trapped, caged.

Her shoulders sagged and she toward her car. The look she gave Prentiss was less than sympathetic.

“Don’t tail too close,” she called. “I play a mean game of brake check.”


	10. Chapter 10

Stark faded in and out of sleep that night, her temples throbbing. Whatever stress headaches she experienced, she figured  that Jed’s abuses hadn’t helped. A hand to her head, she propped herself against a pillow, lulled herself into another doze.

Hours later, Cadbury scratched around her room. He whined into the darkness, paced at the foot of the bed. When Stark opened her yes, she looked out her window to see the still-dark sky – blues and blacks swirling along the Lonestar canvas.

“Now, you choose now to go out,” she grumbled, voice garbled by sleep.

Stark strode to the set of glass bedroom doors, threw them wide.

Cadbury let loose a low, deep growl.

“You’re not serious,” Stark said, wiped a weary hand across her sleep laden eyes.

The dog continued to pace and darted from the bedroom.

Stark sighed and tromped after him, calling after him in a sleep-induced stupor. When Cadbury paused at the front door, Stark slung herself against the side wall and fixed the dog with a look of contempt.

Cadbury ignored her and proceeded to scratch the front door. Eventually, Stark caved and eased the door ajar. Cadbury soared our the door, growled on the front steps.

Stark furrowed her brows and stepped into the night. Her foot caught on something soft, squishy. She reached into the house and flipped a switch sending florescent lights to illuminate the porch.

Her stomach roiled.

Stark dug her fingers into Cadbury’s collar and drew him away from the – the – mess.

_What do I do? I have to call – have to call someone._

Her eyes darted up and down her empty street. Then, she hauled Cadbury into the house, slammed the door, and darted to her phone. She dialed with shaky fingers, whispered “shit,shit,shit” to herself before she found the right number.

“Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” she breathed.

“Diana, what’s wrong?”

“My house,” she squeezed her eyes shut, struggled to think. “My – a body was dumped on the porch. She – she – blood is everywhere, Aaron.”

“He changed M.O.” Stark could hear the scraping of chairs against the floor. “Stay inside. We’re on our way.”

“Oh, no problem there.” She giggled, a breathy, panicky sound.

She withdrew her hand to terminate the call, but Hotch’s voice drew her back: “Keep talking to me, Diana.”

“I’m not completely inept,” she insisted.

“Of course not, but I’m not taking the chance of hanging up and the unsub returning.”

She smiled. “Is this the way a profiler flirts?”

She heard car doors slam, the trembling sounds of the road.

He barely masked a laugh. “On the job.”

“Oh, right, I forgot – macho Agent Aaron Hotchner, my knight in a bullet-proof armor.”

He chuckled.

“I’ll be there soon, Diana.”

***

Stark was on the floor when the BAU arrived. Her legs were crisscrossed, her back leaned against a kitchen cabinet and her arms were wound around Cadbury. She let her phone fall to the floor when she saw JJ wink around the corner.

She offered the executive a soft smile.

“You were right about Jed.”

“Happens,” Stark croaked.

JJ knelt to Stark’s level, placed a hand on her forearm.

“Look, I know this must be difficult for you. I just need you to take deep breaths, and tell me what happened. When you’re ready, the team will want to speak with you.” Her eyes flickered to Cadbury, who’s head was bent in quiet assessment. JJ reached out to pet him, and her smile broadened.

“I’d expect nothing less. I think I can make your job easier for you. The carcass – the body on my doorstep. She’s… she’s my secretary, Julia Mathers. She lives in the city and her father works in the south mill. We should call him – I should call. Don. Don Mathers.” She blinked with glassy eyes, reached for her phone. “It’s late, but he should know now, he should know –”

“Diana,” JJ consoled in a soft voice. “We’ll take care of that. Right now, I just need you to relax. Were you sleeping when this happened?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now.” She retrieved her phone, started dialing. “I need to get in touch with one of my mill directors. He can get me Don.”

“Diana, please. You’re in shock. Let me help you.”

“Agent Jareau,” she snapped, eyes sharp. She held up a trembling finger. “One of my most loyal employees is dead. On my doorstep. Because my company has been unable to protect our staff. This is unacceptable.”

“You couldn’t have predicted this,” JJ insisted. “She doesn’t match any of the past victims.”

“So, then why did it still happen? It’s not fair – it’s not fair and it’s wrong. She was engaged, and I was supposed to attend her wedding in the fall. She was happy,” her voice began to break. “She didn’t deserve this.”

“No one does.” JJ’s tone was soft, consoling. “Maybe you should rest before we ask any more questions.”

Diana raised her eyes. They were big, sorrowful. She clutched Cadbury closer.

“I’ll stay right here, begging your pardon.”

JJ bit her lip. Stark could tells he was listening to the ruckus rooms over; the sounds of infiltrating authorities. There was a shuffling behind them, and JJ turned to glance at Hotch.

He strode forward and fixed Stark with an unreadable expression. Stark offered him a wry smile.

“I don’t know how I feel about all these feds in my house. I may never do business in Texas again.” Whatever humor lingered on her tone was overshadowed by the severity of her eyes, and the loss within them. It exaggerated the impact from Jed’s fist, and the blue and black circle left in its wake.

Hotch raised his eyebrows turned to JJ.

“JJ, go talk with Rossi. I’ll be with you shortly.”

She hesitated, then nodded. Her gaze lingered on Stark as she exited into the melee.

Hotch bended over and fondled a protective Cadbury under his chin. The pup bent his head in approval, and allowed Hotch to offer a hand to Diana.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“No,” she insisted. “I want to stay here.”

Hotch shook his head.

“You can’t be here during an investigation. Go pack a bag and I’ll take you down to the station. We’ll have questions for you.” His eyes drew to her furry counterpart. “Cadbury can come, too.”

She looked up at him with blood shot eyes, straightened her shoulders.

“It better be a damn quick investigation, Hotchner. I won’t allow this asshole to drive me from my home.”

Stark took his outstretched hand, and allowed him to boost her up. His hand remained constant on her back as they walked, steadied her on the way to her bedroom. Cadbury trotted into the bedroom ahead of them, but Hotch paused before entering. He grabbed the hand gun from his belt.

Through her stupor, Stark managed a chuckle.

“Indulge me,” he said, and disappeared into the room.

When he emerged he held out his hand for Stark to follow. Her hand found his as she stumbled into the room.

Hotch eased the bedroom door closed. When he faced her, his eyes were dark. Stark observed him, nodded her head in understanding. Slowly, scrumptiously, she made her way toward him and placed a hand on his chest.

He responded to her in kind and wound his arms around her waist. He pressed her closer, closer, until their lips were a breath apart.

Stark moaned softly, drew a hand to Hotch’s lips. _Oh,_ how she ached to devour them. To ravish them.

One kiss, she told her. One kiss and I’ll be satisfied.

She looked up at him with pleading eyes and placed a languid kiss on the edge of his lips. He groaned into her affections, closed his eyes.

Where Hotch was a steady force, he suddenly became a reckless one. He thrust Stark flush against her dresser, ravished her lips with wild, frenzied kisses. One after the other, they came and conquered. His hands pressed her pelvis against his waist, and the two ground against each other with fervor.

There was a clang in the kitchen, voices searching for Hotch. The pair detached themselves with a heavy sigh, but not before an appreciative leer from Stark.

“It seems my charms have won over more than just _you,”_ she said. Her eyes flickered to the burgeoning bulge in his suit pants.

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound and drew a finger across Stark’s jaw.

“Your bag still needs packed. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”


End file.
